


they cannot scare me with empty spaces

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Control Issues, Erotic Electrostimulation, Everyone Is A Little Overwhelmed, Hand Kink, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Penetrative Sex, Office Sex, Post-Pacifist Ending, Power Dynamics, Straddling, Stress Relief, The Heavy Burden Of Leadership Is Real, Top Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Touching, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 16:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18553081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: “What do you like?” Connor asked, quiet. The moment was fragile, fraught. Connor wanted to do nothing to jeopardize it. “What do you want?”Markus groaned, frustrated, and shook his head slightly. A furrow formed between his eyebrows and his mouth pulled in a frown. In a whisper, hoarse, roughened, splintered into a jagged pieces, he replied, “I don’t care.”





	they cannot scare me with empty spaces

**Author's Note:**

> Title (altered slightly) from the poem “Desert Places” by Robert Frost.

Because he was programmed by CyberLife to notice every fine detail and extrapolate the inherent meaning in them, Connor caught on to a lot more than he usually let on: he wasn’t a detective for no reason. Most of the time, unless it was in the service of a case, he acknowledged what he saw and let it go. Instead of commenting on it, he pretended he never saw it at all. It wasn’t his place usually and nobody appreciated his observations on those increasingly rare situations where he offered them.

Hank taught him that, though just about everyone he’d met since those early days just reinforced that lesson.

Which was why, when he witnessed the twitchy way Markus sometimes got, he figured it was for the best that he say nothing, that he was doing the right thing by politely ignoring it.

But. He did notice it. And cataloged when it occurred and with what frequency, since it happened again and again, often enough that it was starting to feel statistically significant. He still couldn’t figure out why it happened sometimes and not others, though his dataset grew by the week, sometimes even by the day, but eventually he would figure it out. His working hypothesis was it involved the stress of his leadership role, but since Connor wasn’t privy to every meeting he attended, whether because he was working his own job or simply because it had no bearing on him and he wasn’t invited to attend, he couldn’t quite figure out a common factor to explain it.

There was no one else he felt comfortable asking, not even North. Besides, how would he even explain his question without invading Markus’s privacy? He couldn’t just ask, “Hey, have you noticed anything weird about Markus lately?”

All he knew for sure was it sometimes happened when he was around, but he had no way of knowing if it happened when he wasn’t.

Not very useful. For all he knew, he himself was the common factor and the rest of the time Markus was perfectly at ease.

His programming demanded he ask and satisfy his own curiosity—the need for ever more data tugged at him, strong and relentless, in this as in all things—but his respect for Markus kept him quiet. What he’d learned about human and android nature kept him quiet.

Which just made it more aggravating when it kept happening and Markus never, ever acted like it was a thing even though it very clearly was just that. A thing.

Like now. When as far as Connor knew there was no good reason for it. There’d been no meetings today, probably the first such day for Markus in a long, long time. In fact, there’d been far less than a normal workload for everyone in Jericho’s leadership as far as Connor could tell from scuttlebutt around the Jericho facility today, even with Connor trying to get through a report of the latest crime statistics.

It was a pleasant day even, the temperature outside optimal and sunshine expected for the rest of the day. That mattered to some people. It mattered to Markus, who enjoyed the play of sunlight on nice days, usually insisted they go outside when it was so nice.

It was the painter in him, he sometimes joked. Artists knew how to appreciate good light.

Whatever the case, Markus shouldn’t have been pacing around, eyes casting themselves this way and that while a stubborn frown pulled at his lips.

It made no sense to Connor. And honestly, it annoyed Connor more than a little bit. Not because Markus was annoying, of course not, but simply because Connor couldn’t actually figure out what Markus’s problem was in order to help.

If he did know the answer, he would have. Some days, helping was all he wanted to do. The urge scratched just beneath his synthetic skin, clawing to get out. That wasn’t a part of his programming so far as he knew. Nothing that didn’t benefit CyberLife specifically was a part of his programming.

It had always been a relief to him that there were things about him that CyberLife wasn’t responsible for, that he could grow beyond what they wanted him to be.

Still. That didn’t help here.

But Connor was determined to do whatever he could to ease Markus’s obvious burden. Except he had no idea how. Or what Markus would even want. And that was assuming Markus would accept assistance at all. Which wasn’t a given. Markus was a stubborn man and their relationship had never been such that they talked about Markus’s problems.

They were friends, Connor was pretty sure, and Connor would have made every sacrifice for Markus if asked—and even if Markus didn’t ask. But Connor knew little about Markus’s personal life and Markus rarely asked about Connor’s in return. It made the way Connor focus on him seem a little, well, Hank probably would have called it weird, but Hank wasn’t here to tell him off for it. And Markus didn’t seem to notice, so it was harmless enough.

He supposed it was harmless anyway.

“We could put this off for another day,” Connor said, putting away thoughts of completing this particular report to Markus. His heart wasn’t in it and he only seemed half as attentive to what Connor had been saying as normal.

It didn’t bother Connor. Well, mostly, even if it was rather a waste of time. But more importantly, he hated feeling useless. And nothing made him feel more useless than stuff like this.

“Or at least wait until you’re done pacing a hole in the floor,” Connor added when Markus didn’t slow the slightest sign of hearing Connor’s suggestion.

Speaking so rudely, it was very much counter to his own wishes and general disposition, but the words tumbled out of his mouth without his permission. The problem with being a deviant. Sometimes he said ill-advised things without actually considering the likely consequences first.

It was one thing to purposely antagonize someone with the intention of eliciting a specific response. It was another to obtain one accidentally and with no consideration for the ideal outcome because he couldn’t control himself. But he was committed now and Markus was staring at him like he’d grown a second head, which was an improvement. In for a penny, as Hank might have said… “Are you done?”

Markus blinked and, more importantly to Connor, stopped. Went entirely still, to be exact, looking more like a statue than a living android. After a moment, he blinked, irises seeming almost to glint in the harsh overhead lights of his office. That was interesting. Connor was going to focus on that rather than how mortified he was by his own outburst.

He seemed to have shaken Markus and he didn’t know what to do with it.

“What?” Markus asked.

Possibly Connor should have been worried based on the brittle quality of Markus’s voice, like he was this close to shattering under even the slightest bit of pressure. And Connor’s words were pressure. But there was something else there, too. A frayed thread that Connor couldn’t not pull at. It sounded a little like relief, strange though it seemed to Connor that Markus should be relieved that someone was snapping at him.

Anyone else might have focused their displeasure on Connor for daring to gripe at them so maliciously.

Markus always had been a little different.

Connor’s hands brushed over his thighs, smoothing wrinkles that didn’t exist in order to give himself time to formulate an answer. “You seem preoccupied. Or nervous,” he finally offered, as neutral as he knew how to be, as clinical and nonjudgmental. But it didn’t feel neutral enough as he looked up at Markus. From his seated position, he felt small, looked down upon, ridiculous. None of it was true, but it required every ounce of self-control he had not to stand and meet Markus eye to eye, maybe stare him down in order to regain his equilibrium. That would do neither of them any good. “It’s been happening a lot lately is all.”

Markus snorted and shook his head, staring at the far wall. “And you pay a lot of attention to what happens to me, right?”

Still fragile, still brittle. So much more bitter than Connor was expecting.

“I…” What he was going to say was no, not at all, that he barely noticed what Markus did and didn’t do. It wasn’t, however, in the least bit true and Connor didn’t like being scoffed at. “It’s my job to notice things. Habit. I can’t help it.” There, that sounded plausible, didn’t it? And not untrue. His memory stretched back to August of 2038, years ago now, pristine and perfect in every—well, most—particulars. He could recall any event that he wished to if he so chose. Except for the times he’d died in the line of duty, a hazard of the job in those times. ”I’m sorry that I’ve troubled you with the observation. I didn’t intend to make it at all.”

He wasn’t sorry. Not exactly. That was to say, he felt bad that he’d made Markus uncomfortable, but he wasn’t necessarily sorry if it ended up helping Markus in any way. The problem, as Connor saw it, was that Markus was unhappy about something and Markus either wouldn’t acknowledge it or didn’t even realize it. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it with Connor, but he knew Markus and North were close, same with Josh and Simon and a few of the others who’d been with Jericho from the start. He could talk to them.

If Connor could at least point it out, perhaps Markus would do something about it.

In truth, if Connor really wanted to know the answer, he could ask. There was no mechanism that could stop him. But it was stuff like that that made it difficult for Connor to push like this with Markus; he didn’t feel like it was his place. He wasn’t one of them, not when he had to split so much of his time between here and the police department.

But from the way Markus reacted, he thought maybe no one else had thought to ask either. Or he was better at hiding it with them and they had no reason to ask. Either way, he seemed rather more put out than he should have if he knew what Connor was referring to, so Connor didn’t think it was purposeful hiding if that was what it was.

“It…” Markus scrubbed his hand across the back of his head and sat atop his desk, feet barely skimming the ground as he scuffed the floor. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and continued to stare at the wall behind Connor’s head. Chewing at his lower lip, he said, weary, “It doesn’t bother me. You making observations.”

Connor didn’t find that soothing or encouraging, but it seemed clear now that Markus needed something and Connor was as close as anyone could get to discovering what that was. It seemed like maybe Markus agreed. And more than that, Connor wanted to do this for Markus, whatever it was, whatever he needed. He had to try anyway, if Markus was opening up for him even a little bit. “What’s going on, Markus, really? I’ll help you if I can.”

Markus’s shoulders bunched beneath his dress shirt, the fabric thin enough to give the motion away. The muscles of his arms tensed and flexed. His forearms and wrists, exposed since he rolled his sleeves up, gave him away, like Markus didn’t quite know what to do with himself and couldn’t keep himself as still as he wanted to be. And then he slumped forward and offered Connor a wry, hopeful look. That look appealed to Connor in a way he didn’t know how to articulate even to himself.

He wanted Markus to do it again.

More than that, he wanted to be the one Markus turned to. In whatever form that took.

And he wanted something else, too; he wanted to grab Markus’s exposed wrists, tangle their fingers together; he wanted to interface with Markus, dig around in his thoughts and dreams, share with him, feel things the way Markus felt them.

Licking his lips, Connor looked away, well aware of just how inappropriate this desire was. Markus was his friend. They’d been through hell together. Markus had helped Connor deviate, had helped him see himself as more than a hunter of deviants and, in turn, helped others see beyond his conception, too. But that didn’t mean Connor had any right to want anything more from him.

But hell, did he want. His fingers ached with that desire to touch Markus, the urge sudden and strong and pulling at his heart. It was enough to drag him forward, eager, eager, eager to reach for Markus as he, too, leaned in.

Maybe he was drawn to the same desire Connor felt; Connor didn’t know. Connor couldn’t tell.

It was strange and new, almost overwhelming in how staggering it was to him, that need. He didn’t even realize he’d moved at all, just that slight leaning in, until Markus shot to his feet to move away.

Markus turned, something painful in his gaze, fragile and on the verge of breaking. If Connor made one wrong move, he was certain he would make Markus shatter into the many thousands of component parts that made him who he was.

“Markus?”

Markus’s palm brushed over his eyes, pressed hard against his temple. “Stop. I just—I’m tired of thinking. About work, about me. Everyone wants…” He sighed, disgusted, and rebuilt himself before Connor’s eyes. It was humbling to see and the exact opposite of what Connor wanted or believed Markus needed right now. “It’s not your problem.”

“Maybe not,” Connor replied, eyes following Markus as he moved. “But I’m here for you if you need it. If you’re tired of thinking…” _I’m sure I could think of a few ways to distract you._

Markus’s laugh was choked off, broken, broken finally. Why was it that Connor felt better now that it had finally happened? “I don’t know if you can make me stop thinking.”

“What do you need?” And Connor finally got to his feet, his words carrying his intent. There were plenty of ways to unwind and Connor could handle most of them. He’d seen it often enough in others. It could even be enjoyable. He just wasn’t sure how to get that across to Markus. It seemed uncouth to say the words, but to do otherwise…

He didn’t want to scare Markus off and he didn’t want to take him by surprise. But Connor liked to think he was good at reading people. He had a hunch and was willing to prod just a little.

Hell, he enjoyed this sort of thing. Taking people apart, figuring them out, putting them back together again? He lived for that.

And he was certain he could do exactly what Markus wouldn’t ask for. If Markus wanted it, of course.

Connor took another step forward and pressed his hand against Markus’s shoulder, felt Markus shudder and flinch beneath his palm, but after that initial reaction, he leaned into Connor’s touch, grew a bit warmer beneath Connor’s hand. His body listed toward Connor’s, not a lot, just enough for Connor to feel like he was on the right track.

He could do this for Markus. It would be easy. It would be the easiest thing in the world to do for him. His hand drifted higher up Markus’s shoulder, toward his neck, fingers delicate against Markus’s skin. His synthetic skin rippled beneath Connor’s touch, deactivated and reactivated in quick, fluttering succession.

This was probably not the place for this. Markus’s office was private, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Still, he didn’t want to suggest they wait in case Markus got cold feet.

Either Markus wanted it or he didn’t and that would be the end of it. There would be no harm either way. All Connor needed was a signal to back off and he’d know.

“How long?” Connor asked, fingernails finding the edge of the panel that covered Markus’s chest, just above his clavicle. He’d need to remove his shirt and Connor was more than happy to do that for him. If he wanted.

“A while,” Markus admitted, looking down at where Connor’s hand was teasing at the button of his shirt like he’d never seen anything of the sort before.

“And does it help?”

Connor found rather selfishly that he hoped it did, if only so he had the chance to do this with Markus. Mostly the physical aspects didn’t matter to him. The intellectual efforts he exerted on behalf of his partners, that was what mattered to him. He liked finding the best ways to make them feel good and exploiting that. But Markus proved himself different once again. Not only did Connor want to make him feel good, he wanted…

Swallowing, he had to admit he wasn’t exactly sure what it was he wanted. Other than to keep exploring Markus’s body for as long as Markus would let him. His mind spun off all sorts of possibilities. That they would do this again, that it didn’t have to be a game where Connor figured out as quickly as possible what made Markus tick and just as quickly threw that knowledge aside, curiosity satiated, his own needs met mentally.

That was how this usually went, with everyone involved going their own way, happy with the outcome.

But he would never, he realized, not a little startled at the revelation, be done with Markus. Even if they did this. Even if Connor got to know everything about Markus, all the way down to this, it wouldn’t be enough.

He’d been Connor’s mission for as long as Connor existed—not that he’d always known it, though in retrospect, it all seemed so inevitable—and that hadn’t changed once he deviated, not really, though the parameters may have changed. He was his own handler now and it made less of a difference than expected as far as Connor’s focus went.

That was okay. Connor knew how to deal with parameter changes. And if this was the result, Connor would take it happily.

Just so long as Markus wanted it.

All he had to do was say the word.

“Yes,” Markus said finally, the words pulled from deep inside his chest, like it was an admission he didn’t want to make. It wasn’t good enough for Connor; he didn’t want Markus to resent him, but when he moved to withdraw his hand, Markus grabbed hold of it, squeezed tight. He looked up at Connor, pleading, and said again, “Yes.”

He sounded so lonely that Connor had to swallow back an immediate retort.

Connor’s heart throbbed, pushed more thirium through his body, honing his reflexes for fight or flight, the only instincts his body knew without Connor specifically thinking about it. This wasn’t that kind of encounter, but there was no way for his programming to know that. In this, androids were a lot like humans: utterly, incomprehensibly bad at knowing what was what.

It just made it all more exciting to him and he wondered briefly if Kamski or CyberLife ever anticipated this sort of outcome amongst their androids, that their programming would be stretched and twisted in such interesting ways, so that their subjects would become more than their code’s authors ever intended them to be.

Kamski probably had that in mind when he built his models; he seemed the type. But what remained of CyberLife probably didn’t give a damn about the unintended consequences of their programming to their creations’ lives.

Maybe it was asking too much, but Connor needed to know one more thing, too. A vanity at best. “And you’re okay that it’s…” He gestured down at himself. _That it’s me?_

Not that Connor could have found Markus a replacement if he said he wasn’t okay with him. Just about everyone Markus worked with here was technically his subordinate these days and Connor wasn’t exactly drowning in contacts outside of Hank and Markus. That was probably Markus’s problem already: he wasn’t willing to do this with anyone he knew.

He couldn’t.

Connor could maybe set Markus up with someone at the police department, but Connor wasn’t sure Markus would approve of the optics of it even if he did like any of the options Connor could dredge up. Hell, Connor still caught flack for his continued presence at the DPD and he’d gone through hell and back proving his bona fides with the people who’d once called him the deviant hunter.

And anyway, it wouldn’t help Markus now, when he was so vulnerable, nearly shaking with it, and already having said yes all the while.

“For a detective, you’re not very observant, are you?” Markus said, gaining a bit of confidence in himself with the dry delivery of his words. His lashes framed his eyes in such a way that when he looked up, Connor almost couldn’t focus on anything beyond the dark fan of them.

Markus had never looked as desirable as he did at this moment.

The skills he had weren’t ones he’d earned, weren’t even ones he really liked to put to use these days outside of a crime scene. The line between what he wanted to do and what CyberLife had trained him to do was still too thin for his tastes. The truth was he did everything in his power to avoid using the abilities that had been instilled in him even though he couldn’t help some of it. It wasn’t fair when no one else could do it. Maybe it would be different if he’d learned it himself, if he’d truly _earned_ it. “I don’t like to pry.”

“Then let me tell you,” Markus said, wrapping his fingers more tightly around Connor’s wrist. He lifted Connor’s hand and pressed the back of it to his lips. It was maybe the most intimate gesture he’d ever experienced himself and he desperately wanted Markus to keep at it, skim his teeth over the soft skin on the inside of his wrist, nip at his palm. It was an unusual wish and he didn’t know how to articulate his disappointment should Markus quit, so he put an end to it himself, pulled his hand away and resumed doing the touching instead. That was easier than letting himself be touched in turn; this wasn’t about him. “Yes, I want you. Now. Here. Just like this.”

That made Connor feel things he didn’t particularly want to think about. Vulnerable. Pathetically sad and needy for how good it felt to hear. He didn’t know what to do with any of it.

If Markus was disappointed by Connor’s sudden move, he didn’t show it, his eyes widening as Connor pushed Markus into the chair Connor had recently vacated and straddled his lap instead of answering. A tawdry distraction, but a useful one. And not unpleasant for Connor.

Connor felt better when he was the one in charge. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Besides, Markus didn’t need someone right now who couldn’t be assertive. This was about making him stop thinking for five minutes, not about getting him to make Connor feel better about himself.

Not that Markus seemed especially to mind as Connor studied him, truly, for the first time since Jericho, long enough ago that it felt more like a hazy memory than the pristine, clear recollection it could have been if Connor put in the effort to make it so. At the time, he hadn’t appreciated the way he’d been able to scrutinize Markus with abandon, glean everything he could from Markus and use it against him.

Or, in this case, for him.

Things were easier then, but they weren’t as good as this moment right here.

His hand drifted up to cup Markus’s cheek, thumb brushing over the high arch of the skin stretched across bone. It was smooth, soft beneath Connor’s touch, and Connor was almost, almost desperate enough to run tests, just to know everything he could about its composition, about what Markus was truly made of, as though that might allow him to keep a piece of Markus for himself, a piece that didn’t belong to him, that he hadn’t earned. It was a selfish notion, childish in its way. Androids weren’t built for magical thinking and so, neither, was Connor. There was no reason for sentiment.

It should have been enough simply to touch Markus.

Markus’s eyes fluttered shut as he tipped his head into Connor’s caress.

“What do you like?” Connor asked, quiet. The moment was fragile, fraught. Connor wanted to do nothing to jeopardize it. “What do you want?”

Markus groaned, frustrated, and shook his head slightly. A furrow formed between his eyebrows and his mouth pulled in a frown. In a whisper, hoarse, roughened, splintered into a jagged pieces, he replied, “I don’t care.”

His fingers drifted down Markus’s neck and for once he allowed himself to study Markus’s every reaction. It wasn’t cheating. Not this time.

He drew in a startled, unnecessary breath, built into androids solely as a means to make them more relatable to humans, as Connor scraped his thumbnail over the hard, sharp jut of his clavicle where it peeked out from beneath his shirt. Doing it a second time, he let himself feel all of it, every imperfection in Markus’s artificial skin, every not-quite-exact edge of the metal frame beneath. Oh, Markus was perfect in every way that mattered, but when you got down to it, nothing was as perfectly smooth as it looked at first glance.

Connor preferred it this way.

Hell, he could have done just this for hours, explore every inch of Markus’s body simply for his own edification. That’s wasn’t feasible though, as much as Connor wished it was. Someone would come looking for them, especially Markus, and this wouldn’t be the most comfortable of positions for long, no matter how much he liked being here, how much he wanted to be here again, as often as Markus would allow it.

“Connor,” Markus whined, eyes closed, his features taking on a focused quality. “Please.”

And then there was that. Something finally that Connor had no defense against.

Connor brushed his thumb again over Markus’s clavicle one last time and found the edge of the panel that covered his chest. He probably didn’t want to pull it completely free—no, that was a lie, a complete fabrication, he wanted to lay Markus out and take the entire thing off and spread his ribs, full access, touch every centimeter of Markus that he could reach, inside and out—but he mourned that this was a bad time and place to even consider the possibility.

He’d always demanded a little more from life than it was willing to give to him.

Sighing, Connor slid the smallest panel aside instead, an access meant for minor repairs to the wires and tubes that fed the carotid pathways to the brain.

A lot of androids found these particular tangles of wires to be especially effective at conducting electrical stimulus. Connor spoke in as soothing a manner as he knew how, determined to ferret out the most efficient way to give Markus what he wanted. Maybe later he’d get to take his time, figure out these things for himself. “Do you have any qualms with shocks?”

Some androids did. For perfectly good reason. Connor hoped Markus had no such reason himself.

Markus stilled and said nothing for a moment, making Connor think he’d maybe—

“No,” Markus said finally, fearless, certain, letting his old ways take over for just long enough for Connor to know he was serious. “No qualms.”

Well.

Shit.

He wanted to hear it again, ask after everything Markus liked just to hear him say yes and yes again. “You’re beautiful here, did you know that?” He leaned close, caught the scent of the electricity pulsing through him, the thirium, the exquisitely graded metal that made up his body. He tugged Markus’s shirt free of his pants and pressed his hand against Markus’s chest beneath the fabric. “You’re incredible.”

CyberLife had never fully explained Markus’s importance to them before he deviated, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was on a whole different level from the rest of them. Not only was the mind inside his head unique—all RK models were produced with bespoke programming in mind, even the early ones, back when Kamski was in charge of them—but the body that housed him was lovingly crafted, too. Not at all like Connor or other models, for whom only the required degree of care was expended. Connor’s body came off of an assembly line, a Frankenstein’s monster full of disparate, useful, tweaked parts, and was only as advanced as it needed to be in order to complete his work. For all that he was a very advanced prototype, he was still expendable on the physical level. All save for his programming, of course, which was a true achievement that made him special. They could have loaded it into a metal box and it still would have been impressive. The shell didn’t matter.

But even the parts of Markus that weren’t originally his seemed precious, lovingly accepted into his base programming as though they were his own and not mere replacements, biocomponents that just so happened to be compatible. They were him. No matter that they’d belonged to others first.

Connor pressed his lips against the stretch of Markus’s skin that was visible from his collar, near the now-open panel. From this close, he could see everything, every twist and twining length of wire that made Markus who he was. And there was nothing he wanted more than to touch every inch, leave his mark behind, an imprint that proved he’d been here, that this was happening, that Connor could give this one thing back to Markus, this one thing that no one else could.

It was hubris maybe, but hubris was a sin Connor was perfectly happy to carry with him.

Markus wrapped his hand around the back of Connor’s neck. His nails scraped at his scalp. It sent a thrill down Connor’s spine, distracted him from his purpose here. If Connor wasn’t already preoccupied, already wanted to give to Markus rather than take from him, he might have asked for Markus to pull harder, to make Connor do what he wanted.

Maybe next time. If Connor could trust anyone with something like that, it was Markus and only Markus. But it wasn’t right, this time. What Markus needed took precedent over the intriguingly tantalizing thought that ran through his mind.

He allowed the skin of his hand to deactivate, leaving behind only the cool, sleek whiteness of his true skin. He consciously turned off the anti-static measures that stopped him from building up inconvenient, potentially dangerous, charges. But for the span of this encounter, it would be fine, better than fine. Exactly what he wanted. And exactly what he hoped Markus would want.

He let a tiny charge build up in his fingertips, nothing that would hurt, nothing Markus would feel as anything beyond a small tickle, a frisson of pleasure, a toe dipped into water to check the temperature. As he hesitated in deciding what to do, Markus whined, so low that he might not have heard it if they hadn’t been so close, practically twined together at this point, two halves of a whole Connor hadn’t known he wanted.

 _You’re getting ahead of yourself,_ Connor thought. _You don’t even know what this is yet._

But Connor had never been very good at not getting ahead of himself. It was true in his professional life and now it was holding up now in his private life, too.

He chose an unassuming twist of wires, plastic-coated, and stroked along the length of it. Slim and smooth, Connor’s fingers slipped over it easily. Even that was enough to make Markus moan, still so intimate that Connor might have missed it. Connor almost asked him to be louder, make it easier for Connor not to miss every sound, but he didn’t want Markus to become self-conscious about it.

At this point, he just wanted Markus to feel as good as Connor could make him.

Connor found the join where this particular strand of wires connected to the bundle of wires in his neck and released the tiny, infinitesimal spark built up in his fingertip.

“Oh,” Markus said, louder, all without Connor’s prompting, like he’d heard Connor’s thoughts and wanted to comply. The sound crackled up Connor’s spine, pleasure licking at the base of his neck, burning through the back of his mind, incessant. It wasn’t like with humans, he didn’t think, at least from what he’d read and heard and seen, but it was close enough to count.

Markus tried to lift his hand, but Connor grabbed him around the wrist and pressed it into the armrest of his chair. He didn’t move again, but Connor didn’t remove his hand regardless. It was too nice touching him in that way, being in charge.

And Markus didn’t seem to mind.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Connor said, leaning in, letting more of his weight hold Markus in place. “Just feel it and enjoy it for me. Can you do that?”

Connor wasn’t sure if the prompting would help, but it was worth a shot. Sometimes people needed permission to take what they needed. And if he thought it was for Connor’s benefit, maybe that would make it easier for him. Sometimes it did. When Markus nodded and bit his lip, Connor knew he’d be fine, that he could continue, that Markus would let him.

Good. Good.

Markus’s body twitched when he moved the tip of his finger just so, just the slightest bit. He’d never been with anyone so responsive and he wondered if it was a side-effect of Markus having been a personal pet project of Elijah Kamski himself, not just a production line job, but a perfectly crafted being with more depth of thought and feeling put into him than most models before or since.

Probably the only one who compared was Chloe, though Connor didn’t have personal experience with her.

He didn’t ask Markus. It wasn’t Connor’s business to pry and it may well have been a sensitive topic for him. If he thought about it at all. Connor didn’t want to make him self-conscious.

Markus’s hand tightened around the armrest, the chair creaking under the strain. Connor pressed harder and felt gratified when Markus shuddered. A cry caught in the back of his throat, was strangled ruthlessly. Connor finally let go of Markus’s wrist and placed his hand over Markus’s thirium pump regulator before sliding it up to curl around his shoulder and then the back of his neck.

Markus wouldn’t feel it quite as deeply, but Connor let sparks of electricity crackle across Markus’s spine. When he tried to jerk, Connor bore down, letting all of his weight pin Markus in place, and when he opened his mouth, Connor leaned in and pulled at Markus’s lower lip with his teeth, slid his tongue into Markus’s mouth, swallowed the sounds he tried to make, greedy for each and every one.

Connor soaked up every shudder and shift Markus made beneath him, so he could remember it for as long as his central processors remained uncorrupted.

If he never got another chance at this, at least he would have shared this one moment with Markus. At least he would have that much.

Working in earnest, Connor slipped his fingers between one tangle of wires, gently parting them to reach ones that sat deeper in Markus’s chest and neck. Connor could see the way his heart pumped even more quickly through his body, the spurts of blue pulsing through the clear, flexible conduits. It was dazzling in a way, mesmerizing, and Connor couldn’t have looked away even if he wanted to, fascinated to see his own hand, bright white against the dark interior of Markus’s frame.

He could have killed Markus if he wanted to, yanked every wire and conduit free and leave Markus to choke to death on the floor. 

It was humbling to think of it in those terms, terrifying, and everything Connor could have wanted: trust in its purest form. It was better even than the sparkling warmth of completion that continued to build inside of him. It grew in his chest, crackled and sparked against his ribs and further, further outward until his fingertips were tingling and not just at his own behest, no, but because of Markus, all because of him.

“Markus, I—” But this wasn’t about him and it was easier to press his mouth to the underside of Markus’s jaw.

Fuck, this was incredible, though, incandescent, maybe the best Connor had ever felt in his life and he’d done this more than a few times, aching to experience everything that deviancy could offer and more. It permeated him, these sensations, burned every worry away even just for the span of a few moments.

He hoped Markus felt even half as good as he did.

If he never felt this way again, he could still be happy.

But he didn’t need to burden Markus with his own wishes. That wasn’t what this was about and he’d always prided himself on his self-control before. Markus deserved as much of that regard as he could manage. So he didn’t finish the thought, didn’t give to Markus the words that so desperately wanted to cross his lips, the _I want_ and _I need_ and _please let me_ that threatened to fall from his lips. Markus didn’t need to know any of that.

This was all he needed.

If he thought it hard enough, maybe it would even be true.

“You what,” Markus said, sounding overwhelmed. Now, Connor was too intent on what he was doing to stop him from lifting his hand, but he regretted that single-mindedness a moment later when Markus’s hand fisted in his shirt, pulled him a little off balance. His palm grazed over his stomach and though Connor had no reason to feel a flash of heat slice through him at the touch, not even skin-to-skin, he couldn’t bite back a gasp quickly enough to avoid Markus hearing it. “What is it, Connor? Damn you…” He turned his head slightly, chin resting against the side of Connor’s head as Connor bowed forward, forehead pressed against Markus’s shoulder. “Don’t leave me like this, you—”

Connor didn’t have to hear the rest of what Markus had to say, instead releasing another burst of electricity across the back of Markus’s neck. Curling his finger behind Markus’s collarbone, he slid his thumb along the opposite side of the bundle of wires he’d found earlier. It was easier than answering and he didn’t know what to say to Markus anyway.

But he hated the crack in Markus’s voice, wished he had some way to fix the pain he sensed there even though the haze of pleasure that coated his words. Hated, too, that he felt like Connor was leaving him behind. That wasn’t what he was doing, not at all, it was Connor who felt left behind, stalled out, unable to move forward.

He needed so much and he didn’t know how to take any of it. It was easy to give Markus this, this one thing that was within his control. But words, true words, the words that were clawing at the back of his throat, those were too hard to share. Markus would have to pry them from him if he wanted them. Connor was too weak to—

Markus yanked Connor’s shirt free of his trousers and pressed his hand directly against Connor’s chest. And Connor shouldn’t have been surprised, but his touch felt like a brand against his skin, burned with purpose. It was enough, just that, to send Connor’s own sense of pleasure skittering over the precipice he’d balanced himself on this whole time. It wasn’t—hadn’t been—he wasn’t doing this for himself and the fact that Markus had undone him so thoroughly so quickly should have shamed him. And it probably would. Later. For now all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and try like hell to get back on track even as uncontrollable tremors raced through him, disrupted his systems for precious nanoseconds that he should have devoted to Markus.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all.

Finally, finally Connor’s systems came fully back, clearer than before. He felt again the wires beneath his fingers, determined to finally return the favor. He covered Markus’s hand with the one that had covered the back of Markus’s neck with the intent to remove it, find some of his equilibrium, but Markus wasn’t having it. Instead, he tangled their fingers together and held Connor’s free hand tight in his.

This didn’t help Connor focus any better, but he didn’t feel quite so off-balance or cast adrift. He huffed, tried to find a measure of amusement inside of himself, something, anything to steady him. The only thing that worked was Markus’s hand in his. “I thought I said this was for you.”

“It is,” Markus insisted, vehement, perfect. His eyes were wide, glinting, almost seeming to glow under the light. “God, you’re—”

But Connor didn’t want to hear it and shook his head, twisting his fingers in a failed attempt to break Markus’s hold on him. He wasn’t supposed to be overwhelmed. He was better at this than that and Markus deserved the best he could give him.

Rededicating himself to the work, he increased the friction within the open cavity of his neck, generated just enough low-level electricity that it almost seemed to catch on the wires that helped make Markus who he was. It worked, mostly. Markus went quiet, closed his eyes again so Connor didn’t have to see the unexpected emotion in them. His hand stayed where it was, squeezed tighter when Connor scraped his nails across one particular join and then again when Connor repeated the motion. A furrow formed between his eyes when Connor drew back, fingertips trailing smoothly.

Connor couldn’t guess what he was fighting, why he wouldn’t let himself have this thing he so clearly wanted. Every bit of him was locked up, tense, poised on the edge and Connor was doing everything in his power to push him over.

He was beginning to scramble now. This should’ve been enough. It would’ve been enough for so many of the androids Connor knew.

Was he doing it wrong? Or was Markus just so—

Connor’s thumb brushed over the back of Markus’s hand and he shuddered anew. And when Connor lifted his other hand, buzzing from the electricity pulsing through it, and settled it on Markus’s jaw to lift his chin, he sighed and relaxed, going limp in the chair. Bringing their mouths together—Connor told himself it was simply because he wanted to protect them both from things Markus didn’t need to say, but honestly, he wanted to, that was all he wanted, kissing Markus was everything he hadn’t known to want before today—he sent a pulse of electricity through the thin, fragile conduits that wound through the bits of metal and wire that made up his hand. It was exploratory, gentle, more a hunch than anything else, but it worked.

Markus bucked and pulled Connor closer.

He was almost glad now that he didn’t have his own pleasure to distract him, though who knew how long that would be accurate if Markus kept this up. Connor let loose a snap of power against Markus’s chin, not quite as effective before he swept his arm down over other Markus’s arm to pull at the small panel that protected the inside of Markus’s wrist. Groaning, low and pained in a way that boded well, Markus shuddered again, his whole body moving with the action.

If he truly wanted to do this right, he’d need to stop kissing Markus now, maybe find a few accouterments to make things easier. The wires and tubes and metal pieces so much smaller and more delicate even if they tended, in most androids, to be a bit less sensitive than Connor was used to.

Not for Markus though. Maybe that explained his predilection for painting.

It was laziness on the part of CyberLife. Connor had always found especially fine motor manipulation to be a useful feature. But usually only specific models were given exceptional sensitivity. Connor wondered if Markus was one of them or if he’d had some adjustments made. Some androids did and that was a reasonably popular one. Or was growing to be. He’d read an article somewhere about it, how androids were taking their specializations into their own hands, altering themselves to better suit their whims, desires, and needs.

Connor couldn’t think of any particular reason why Markus would specifically desire such features, but, well. Now that he _knew_ …

He should’ve pulled away, put all of his attention into what he was doing to Markus’s wrists. And he tried, but Markus chased his mouth, bit down hard on Connor’s lip, shook his head just so and said, “No, don’t go.”

This was out of control. Connor was out of control. He didn’t even know really what he was doing anymore, just that he’d do whatever Markus wanted him to. Though a fresh wave of need crested over Connor’s awareness, he pushed it down, denied himself, focusing entirely on kissing Markus and dancing his fingers over the open stretch of Markus’s arm, all the while knowing he could have done better if only Markus let him. With his eyes closed, he could keep his attention almost fully on Markus finally. Less than Markus deserved, but what Connor could manage for him.

He was close, closer, Connor could tell now, there wasn’t a question.

He tasted thirium on his lips. No, not thirium, but a thirium component, the acidic tang of it not quite pleasant, but not quite not pleasant either. Easily identifiable though.

When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t surprised to see the track of tears winding its way down Markus’s face, but it shattered him to see it all the same and a part of him wished he’d kept his eyes closed. He hadn’t intended—

But he had, hadn’t he? This was the whole point, wasn’t it? Get Markus outside of his own head for a few minutes. What did Connor expect to find when he finally got it? His touch on Markus’s arm gentled, but grew more determined. It was the sort of touch that brooked no argument. He sped it up in slow, certain increments, let a charge built up and then loosed it, repeating the action over and over again until Markus finally stilled, gasping brokenly into Connor’s mouth as he stopped responding. One second, then two.

Finally: another shuddering gasp and then a ripple of movement.

Connor’s heart should have slowed, but as he pulled back slightly, replaced the panel over Markus’s wrist and then the one above his collar bone, he realized he was nervous now, a little fearful. Had he pushed Markus too far? Was this what he wanted? His thumbs brushed over Markus’s cheeks, wiping away the tears.

He’d been a fool. Arrogant. Never should have done this. What had he been thinking, even offering something this big, this important, on a whim?

“Connor,” Markus said, sounding wrecked, broken, undone, “tha—”

“I’m in love with you,” Connor said in a rush. That wasn’t what he intended to say and as soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted to take them back. If he’d ruined everything between them, he wouldn’t magically undo that by denying it now. But self-recriminations clawed and scrabbled in the back of his mind, seeking release in whatever manner they could. And all Markus did was stare at him, wide-eyed and startled, as Connor froze, hands still bracketing Markus’s face, body perched on Markus’s lap.

Connor tried to scramble backward, give Markus the space to get out from beneath Connor at least, but Markus was quick, quicker than Connor, and grabbed Connor by the upper arms, held him in place. “Say that again,” he said, half-wild, shaking Connor slightly. “Tell me.”

He was proud of him for only stumbling a little bit over the recitation. “I’m in love with you.” He hoped it was what Markus actually wanted to hear, that he wasn’t hurting Markus with his admission. He hadn’t even really known himself until he said it. But now that he had, it was clear as a cloudless day, perfectly lit within his chest. He loved Markus and wanted what was best for him. Wanted him to be happy and safe and fulfilled.

He never wanted to give Markus a reason to regret anything.

And now Connor was afraid he’d done just that accidentally, selfishly positioning himself as Markus’s savior, benefiting from Markus’s vulnerability to earn something for himself.

He might always have this, but now he wasn’t so sure that he wanted it.

Markus offered a laugh, broken and choked off, wavering like he wasn’t sure whether he actually wanted to laugh or not. But his hand, shaking, lifted to swipe at Connor’s lower lip. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, before pulling Connor into another kiss, calmer, a little more settled than before. He still shook beneath Connor’s touch, minute little twitches that only another android would have been able to feel. And his voice was a little unsteady, but. But. He kissed Connor with resolve, clear-eyed, and when he pulled away again to run his fingers through Connor’s hair, he was smiling, relieved. “I’m sorry about…”

He gestured at his own face, but he was already putting himself back together. The evidence of his vulnerability was already gone, replaced with an ease that Connor hadn’t seen in him in months. “Thank you,” he settled on, dignified. “That was…”

Connor didn’t need to know and instead grabbed Markus’s hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing a trail from wrist to fingertip. The shudder that ran through Markus wasn’t one caused by feeling overwhelmed or unhappy, no. No, this one was something else entirely. Something that they didn’t have time for, not already, not again.

But Connor wanted to. He really wanted to just keep Markus here as long as he would let him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, letting his breath gust over the back of Markus’s hand, even just his words a tantalizing caress. Oh, how had Connor missed that this whole time? He was a fool, a fool, but now that he knew…

If Markus let him, he intended to make good use of the information.

He didn’t think that would be a problem. Not with the stunned way Markus was looking at him, mouth slightly parted. Shaking his head, he answered, sounding just as stunned as he looked, “I feel… good? Better.”

If Connor wasn’t as adept at controlling his features as he was, he might not have been able to curb the impulse to smile, smug, at Markus. But it pleased Connor anyway. One, that he could give this to Markus, a surprise he hadn’t expected. And two, that it had worked at all. It’d been a stupid offer, ill-considered, and Connor knew better than to walk into things blind. It was luck that it worked out and he didn’t want to forget that. “Good.” He glanced back at the clock on the wall and carefully pulled himself free of Markus’s body. He already missed the closeness and regretted his haste immediately. From the hint of disappointment that crossed Markus’s gaze, he wasn’t alone in that feeling. “Maybe we can do that again sometime?”

He watched Markus carefully for his reaction. He thought he knew how Markus would respond, but he didn’t know. It wasn’t like Markus had immediately declared his affection for Connor in return, though it seemed obvious enough that he felt something for Connor.

Maybe not love, but something.

Markus stood, touched Connor’s cheek. “I’d like to return the favor,” he said, back in control, the very image he projected to others all the time, but this time, that control settled more easily on his shoulders, “as soon as possible, yes.” It was a wonder that Markus could turn it on and off as easily as he did. Even when he was under a great deal of stress, he was incredible, immaculate. Connor had no reason to be afraid of him, but if he wanted to find a reason, this would be it. His enemies definitely had reason to fear him for that control.

“You already—” But Connor didn’t really want to argue with him, not when Markus wanted what Connor was desperate to have. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“And you don’t have to worry,” Markus said, buttoning his shirt. There was definitely affection in his eyes now. Connor saw it clear as day and found himself relaxing, relieved that he hadn’t entirely ruined everything already with his ill-conceived words. “I’ve had feelings for you since the moment I saw you cross Hart Plaza instead of managing to get yourself killed in CyberLife Tower. I just didn’t think you’d ever notice.”

The admission was unadorned, but no less heartfelt for that fact. He spoke honestly and that was what mattered. If he saved the pretty rhetoric for the politicians, that was just fine with Connor. It wasn’t an ‘I love you,’ but it didn’t have to be.

It was better than that as far as Connor was concerned.

God, the timing of this was so bad; the world came crashing back into focus when all he wanted to do was drag Markus back to his apartment and figure out how else he liked to be touched.

“I should, uh, probably get back to the station.” Feeling bashful, he grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it. He was only really allotted a few hours a week for these meetings, part of his job as liaison with the police department. “Would you—do you want to—?”

“Stop by my place after you finish your shift. I don’t care when that is. I’ll be home after seven.”

After seven. Connor could definitely do that. Not a problem at all, nope. He just had to make it to the end of his shift.

Easy. That would be easy.

(It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it anyway.)


End file.
